Calling
by melissaeverdeen13
Summary: In canon, we learned that Jackson has been calling April. This is what one of those phone calls looks like in my head.


"Is it alright that we're talking? That I'm calling you, I mean?"

A small pocket of air escapes her on the other end of the phone. Just a bit, a pause, enough to tell me the answer that comes is one she had to think about. "Of course," she says. "Friends can call each other." She pauses again. "And I'm not at home. I'm at Starbucks."

"Ah," I say, nodding to myself. "Cheating on Tully's, are you?"

She laughs, that soft little laugh that I can picture. Head ducked, the gentlest curve of a smile on her pretty lips. "When you asked if you could call, I pulled over into what was closest," she says. "Don't make it into some big thing."

"I love doing that, though."

She inhales, then sighs it all out. "Jackson, why are you calling me?"

I answer right away. "I wanted to check if you ended up getting that tree picture I sent you."

"No," she says stubbornly. "Why are you habitually calling me? At weird hours of the day. Are you even going to work?"

How do you tell your ex-wife that you miss her? How do you tell her that after showering her with congratulations on her new life, after effusively telling her how happy you are for her, after assuring her that coparenting with new relationships woven in would work out fine? I've already fulfilled my fair share of backtracking with April. Any more at this point would be practically comedic. But how can I stay silent when we finally see eye-to-eye on something so integral to her identity for the first time since we've known each other? How can I pass up this chance? Maybe God's timing isn't great. Maybe He got me here, but now I need to do the legwork. I just don't know how.

"I've been on leave," I say. "Trying to… figure some stuff out, I guess."

"Stuff," she repeats, encouraging me to continue.

"Should I just come out and say it?" I ask, laughing nervously.

"You've never been one to hold back before."

I rub my temples with one hand and wonder what I'm trying to get out of this, finding that I don't really know. I want someone who will listen to me and take me seriously - and for me, that person has always been April. No matter the circumstances, she has never undercut my words or belittle my thoughts. She's the one person whom I've always fully trusted, even in the middle of a fight. Even in the middle of a war zone. "I've been doing some thinking," I say. "About God." I pause, waiting for her to insert something. She doesn't, though. She lets me speak. "When you were in that coma, April… I can't explain how that felt. I was at the end of a dark road with no place to go. I couldn't find a way out… not if you couldn't. You were so weak and so helpless, all broken... I just wanted to take care of you, and I didn't know how. I sat there for hours and didn't move, just turning over how to fix it. I'm a doctor, I should know, but I didn't. The only thing that kept coming to my head was that I needed to pray for you. And at first, I ignored it. I wrote it off and felt silly for even thinking it. At the time, I thought, if God is real… why would He listen to me? I've spent so long dismissing Him." I take a break and chew the inside of my cheek, throat clogging. "But you still weren't waking up and I knew it's what I had to do. I can't explain it, I just… knew. So, I did. I prayed for you. And like you said, it worked. It was like He was listening the whole time and waiting for me to just… realize, I guess. And He brought you back to me." I clear my throat and amend my statement. "He brought you back."

She makes an affirmative sound, not interrupting but acknowledging my words. "Thank you for doing that," she says quietly.

"It wasn't me," I say. "That's what I'm trying to say. I… the other day, I was about to cross the street and DeLuca stopped me. I mean, DeLuca put his arm out, but what - or who - else was behind it? I would've died. Easily. And I didn't. I think He stopped it." I take a long pause and wonder how to say what comes next without sounding cheesy. "I know we were never on the same page while we were married, April, about Him. About… God. It was a huge point of contention. The biggest one. I couldn't understand. I tried, I tried for you, but it seemed silly to me then. And the fact that it seemed silly to me hurt you, and now I can see why. I don't want to talk to anyone else about finding God because I already know the way they'll look at me."

"The way they looked at me," she murmurs.

"Yeah," I admit, lowering my chin. "So, first I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. For… judging you about your faith. I wish I could've seen sooner… I wish…" I sigh. "I don't know. But I am sorry. The fact that you're so sure about it is kind of amazing to me now. I don't know if I'll ever get to where you are, but…"

"It's not a competition, Jackson," she says, and I wish she were with me. I want to see her face so badly; I want to see that smile, because I know she's grinning. I know how light this must make her heart feel, because mine right now is weightless. I just want to hold her - hug her and never let her go in any sense. "I never had some master plan to make you believe," she says. "I hope you know that. You're way too stubborn for that." We both laugh. "Back then, you were the same amazing person that you are now. Your beliefs don't change who you are at your core. I loved you then for all you were. And He did, too, Jackson. He always has. Don't think that you have to make up for lost time. He's always loved you."

My voice wavers as I speak, saying, "In some strange, hidden way, I think I've always felt the same way," I say. "I mean, He gave me Samuel. He gave me Harriet. He gave me you. At one point, He put us together."

"Yeah," she says, voice light as a feather.

"And I love Him, too," I say, feelings bursting from my chest in a way they most definitely shouldn't be doing. I do love God, but I hope April knows that's not who I'm talking about anymore. With a switch of the pronoun, the sentence is what I've wanted to say and what I've been holding in for much too long. "I still love Him."

She exhales and a small whimper comes with it. Until she speaks again, the only way I know she hasn't hung up is because of the sound of Starbucks in the background. But finally, she whispers, "He knows. And He still loves you, too."


End file.
